The Secret Meeting

Norman pulled his suitcase down the hall, the wheels hardly making a noise on the Greek-patterned forest green and tan carpeting. He stopped in front of the door to room 338 and opened the door with the card keys Rodney, the young desk clerk, had given him. He pulled the door open and walked through. A faint smell of ozone greeted him, but nothing else, thank goodness. He glanced around quickly, placing his suitcase on one of the double beds in the room. The room looked clean enough. He stepped into the bathroom and flipped the switch and nodded satisfactorily.

This was his first trip to Miami, and he was really hoping to find some time to relax while he was here. So far, so good. The flight had been easy, the hotel was nice, and the room was clean. He glanced at the stainless steel watch on his wrist. He hated this watch. It pinched the hairs on his arm. He had seen a shopping center across the street; maybe he could find a new one there. Besides, it was past his lunchtime and he was hungry. He slid the card key off the edge of the table with one hand and smoothly slid it into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Going out, Mr. Reynolds?”

Norman approached the front desk. Rodney’s smiling face greeted him.

“Thought I’d grab a bite. Any good places around here?”

Rodney retrieved a printed flyer from under the counter. “Here are some of our most popular neighborhood restaurants. Did you have a particular place in mind?”

“Not at all. This will do nicely, thank you.” Norman stepped away from the desk to look at the flyer. Several choices seemed to be conveniently within walking distance according to the map printed on the back. Nice.

Norman smiled widely as he stepped out into the warm sunshine. He dropped his sunglasses that had been perched high on his forehead into place with a flick of the wrist. He could generally tell what kind of trip it was going to be by the first few hours. Miami was promising to be one of the better ones so far.

He thought of the last few moments he had spent at home before leaving for the airport. Marge had been preoccupied planning their granddaughter’s birthday party and the dining room table was covered with Marge’s “litter,” as Norman called it. She was always getting herself involved in projects to occupy her time. He couldn’t figure out which was worse. When she was involved with something she was happiest, but he ceased to exist. When she didn’t have anything to do, she was miserable, but at least she remembered to cook. He sighed. At least he got a free pass on this project. He was here. Away from the snow and cold and Marge and her litter.

Norman glanced down at his new gold watch. Chewing thoughtfully on the toothpick extruding from his mouth, he emerged from the diner back into the heat of the afternoon sun. He had traveled to Miami for a sales convention. One of his roofing suppliers just added a new line of heavy asphalt shingles purported to endure hurricane winds and hail. Nonsense, of course, but the aesthetics made it worth checking out. He was always looking for the new thing for his custom-built homes. Most of his clientele were the younger businessmen wanting to impress so they wanted the new design in siding or shingles or pocket doors or whatever would make their house stand out to anyone who visited. Some of the designs for this new line of shingles looked promising, one design even resembling clay tiles. The convention was scheduled to start the following morning, so Norman had the rest of the afternoon to do with as he pleased. He stretched happily and decided he might as well find out where he was going to be spending the next day-and-a-half learning about shingles.

The Matador Convention Center sat back off the busy street quite a distance. He had seen the name and the “Welcome Convention Visitors” sign at the driveway entrance as he had walked to the shopping center earlier. The palm trees and tropical flowers lining the driveway beckoned, so Norman walked briskly toward the main entrance. A blast of air conditioning embraced him as he entered. He looked around appreciatively. This was a very well done lobby. Lots of detail in the finishes. Very expensive looking without being extreme. He began to look for a shingles convention sign to direct him, but then a door at the rear of the lobby was suddenly thrown wide and a crowd of men and women dressed in shorts and t-shirts came pouring forth like a tidal wave, sweeping Norman along with it. He was jostled back and forth for a few feet, but then he felt someone take his elbow and steer him toward wooden double doors down a short hall left of the lobby. He tried to explain that he wasn’t part of their group, but the excited chattering of the crowd made it impossible to be heard without yelling. He was swept through the doors with the crowd and the doors closed behind him. He sighed and waited for the chatter to cease and the crowd to part so he could leave.

The room was darkly lit, like the inside of a movie theater. He got the impression it was a very large room, though he couldn’t be sure. The din continued and Norman began to be jostled forward again. He stepped forward to keep his balance and the momentum was enough to carry him forward several steps into the room with the crowd. He hit his knee hard on something and was just on the brink of losing his temper. A feminine face suddenly appeared to his right, causing him to keep the stream of untidy words from escaping. A young woman in her early thirties dressed in a light-colored sundress touched his arm and tried to speak to him. He leaned closer to hear.

“I’m Patti.” She extended her hand. “Is this your first time here?”

She had a nice voice and a delicate-but firm-handshake. Norman smiled at her. “Here in Miami, here at the convention center, or here in this room?” He reluctantly let go of her hand.

Patti laughed, charming what anger remained out of Norman. “Yes,” she said and laughed again.

Norman raised his eyebrows and smiled back at her. Then he shrugged his shoulders slightly and simply said, “Yes. You?” Before she could answer, the room went suddenly quiet and he could hear the delicate tinkling of a small hand bell. He looked back toward Patti, who put her index finger over her lips, silencing him. She suddenly dropped straight down, and Norman realized he had hit his knee on a chair; he had somehow been maneuvered into a row of seats. Patti once again touched his arm and beckoned him to sit.

The lights in the room increased just slightly, or maybe Norman’s eyes finally adjusted to the dimness, but he was able to get an impression of the people and the layout. From what he could tell, it was definitely a very large room. There were several rows of seats making a circle. In the middle of the circle was a bar stool, upon which sat a young, pleasant-looking, blond gentleman with a somewhat dim spotlight on him. He was dressed casually, and exuded a confidence beyond his young years. His hands were empty. He looked around him. He was a handsome young man with a wholesomeness about him, sort of kid-next-door. He smiled widely and Norman could hear a sharp intake of breath from several people around the room; probably all female, he thought wryly, suddenly missing his own youth.

“Most of you know me, but for those of you who don’t,” he paused as a giggle circled the room, “you can just call me Stan.” The crowd chuckled loudly. “As you know, we’re only a month-and-a-half away from the holiday season, so once again we find it’s time for our annual strategy meeting.” He crooked a finger toward his left and large TV monitors that were hung in several strategic places in the room appeared on the walls, displaying “Welcome.”

From the looks of the monitors, the room was indeed large, larger than Norman had originally thought. The acoustics must be unreal, he thought, since he could detect no evidence of Stan using a microphone. He tried once again to visualize details of his surroundings, but the monitors were hung high enough that their light provided no illumination to those seated below them. Norman glanced at Patti. From what he could make out in the dimness, her eyes were focused on Stan. He waited patiently for an opening to slip away quietly.

“As always, we will start with a short recap of our mission,” said Stan. “Then we’ll discuss our successes and failures toward fulfilling said mission, and finally our new goals for the coming year. Then it’s all pleasure!”

The crowd roared in response to the last statement and jumped to its feet in unison. Norman, turning as he rose from his chair, prepared to take advantage of the chaos and leave the way he came. He was surprised to see he was completely blocked in. There was no way he was getting through that crowd, unnoticed or otherwise. He was just going to have to ride this out and hope it didn’t last too long. And maybe at the end of it he could get to know Patti a little better.

“As you all are well aware, we have lost this war. That is just a simple statement of fact. It’s all over. There’s no way we’re going to pull this one out. In the words of The One we will never mention by name, it is finished.”

Not a sound came from the presumably thousands in attendance. Pin drop? Heck, thought Norman, you could hear a flea take a bite, chew, and swallow.

“But,” began Stan in a magnificent voice designed to control the masses. “What we do have is time. How much time, unfortunately, I can’t say. Not for sure, anyway. So we must utilize every single second we have to accomplish our mission.” Claps and yells burst forth from every corner of the room, causing Norman to jump and desperately want to cover his ears. He again marveled on the acoustics.

After the crowd quieted down, Stan continued. “What is our mission, you ask? Simple. Divide and conquer, so to speak. We have lost the war, but we can still inflict heavy damage on our enemy. We can still make Him suffer tremendously. How do we do that? By taking what He gave so much to save. By killing those He loves.” Stan nearly spat the words out. Each syllable was pronounced slowly and steadily and seemed to be from a submerged sea of hatred. Norman sat slightly stunned, his eyes glued on Stan. His heart began to beat faster in spite of himself as he considered the words he just heard.

“His plan was perfect. It covered everything. No detail was left ignored. Again, a simple statement of fact. So let’s continue to utilize it. We use His plan, His words, His ways. Only we change them to suit our needs. Just a little twisting is all it takes and they will destroy themselves. People are easily led and manipulated. They always have been. They always will be.”

Norman marveled at the hate spewing forth from the mouth of Stan while his face remained unchanged. He was still the boy-next-door. Almost angelic. Norman shook his head and felt the beads of sweat rolling down his neck despite the cool air conditioning.

“The easiest way to control is by convincing people to put themselves first-their wants, their needs. It worked for me in the beginning and it’s still working today. Study your subject. See what makes him or her tick. Is it a need to be important? Use it. Is it perversity? Use it. Is it a need to be better than others? Use it. Is it a sense of inferiority? Use it. Always remember the best way to manipulate is to convince them they will be happier or better off, even if it’s only for a moment. It’s amazing what they will do to each other because of pride.” A murmur of assent circled the room. “No one is off limits. Every single win is worth all the effort. Never stop attacking. Never slow down. Never give up!”

The responding roars were deafening. Norman sat glued and frozen, unable to determine if this was some kind of sick joke.

“In the past I’ve found the most effective way to accomplish our goal is slowly. Sometimes it takes generations before ideas we introduce are fully accepted into culture. The most important thing is not to rush it. People are much more likely to fight against us if we push them too hard too fast. They like to think they’re in control. Again, it’s the pride. Be patient. Ask any child what’s special about this time of year and he’ll talk about Santa. Ask in the spring and he’ll talk about the Easter Bunny. That didn’t happen overnight.”

“Isn’t he brilliant?” Patti whispered. “He really knows his stuff.” Norman glanced at her. She hadn’t taken her eyes off Stan. Norman felt panic threatening and concentrated all his energy on stopping his limbs from trembling. His mind flew as he desperately tried to recall Bible verses he had learned over the years. We don’t have a spirit of fear, he told himself over and over again. Fear is not of God. What was it Pastor Mark was always saying? “Rest on the strength of the Lord. He will be your sword and shield.”

Stan’s voice penetrated Norman’s brain. “Though I was allowed only once to harm one of His own, namely Job, that was before The One came to earth and sacrificed Himself for them. Now we can no longer harm His own, but we can easily get them to harm themselves and each other. In this country especially we have massively infiltrated their homes, their lives, and their minds with our cause. We have taught them to care only for their comfort, their desires, their own needs and concerns.” Stan’s voice escalated as he continued. “We have made financial and social status priorities in this culture. We have taught them the principles of self-indulgence, and materialism. We manipulate and control with addiction. We have taken away their spiritual weapons by removing prayer from schools and teaching false doctrines that distract from the truth. We even have a lot of them believing they’re apes!” Stan was yelling now. “Now they have access to pictures and videos and nearly anything they want to feed their perversities. We are slowly accomplishing our goal of changing this culture to anything goes. We now have all the tools in place. Hearts are being hardened to, and therefore accepting of, previously unacceptable ideals by repeated exposure. We have manipulated them into believing love and lust are the same. We are destroying families and lives by the second and very few are any the wiser!”

Norman covered his ears as the crowd again jumped to its feet and roared deafeningly. After several moments the crowd resumed their seats and Norman could again see Stan, who took a pristine white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and wiped his forehead. He smiled angelically at everyone and resumed his speech more calmly and quietly.

“Alas,” he said. “Despite all these awesome victories, we have still lost the war. The enemy has still stomped us under His feet. He has won. But He is not immune to pain. We can still diminish the work He accomplished on the cross by keeping as many as possible from knowing the truth. We can still hurt Him and them excruciatingly.

"How do we do this? Once again, by using His plan, His strategy, and tweaking it to serve our purpose, not His. He says love one another as you love yourself. OK then, make this a culture of free love. Anything goes. Love anybody or anything. He says love the Lord God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. OK then, let’s make them think they are their own god. They will stop at nothing to fulfill their desires. Keep them from drinking His water and they will not, cannot be fulfilled. Those who are thirsty are the easiest to lead.

"Divide and conquer. Divide by keeping them apart from Him and conquer by leading them to destroy themselves, thereby crippling Him.” Stan looked smugly around the room as the applause filled the auditorium. “You may place the 'A' back in my name now.” The crowd roared with laughter. “If the servers would please step forward, we can now let the party begin!”

Norman stayed in his seat until the crowd rushed forward and filled the center of the room where Stan, or Satan, was. As soon as he was able he alternately leapt and ran for the door, unable to get to it fast enough.

Back in his hotel room, Norman locked and bolted the door. He just needed to calm down, think things out clearly. He paced back and forth a few times, but his mind just wouldn’t settle into a clear pattern. Hoping some normalcy would help, he grabbed the TV remote and dropped onto the bed, propping himself against the headboard. It was a car commercial. The Christmas ads were already out in full force. Who gives a luxury car for Christmas anyway? If you can afford to buy a car like that for Christmas, you already have one. Norman thought about what Stan, or Satan, had said. Self-indulgence and materialism. He thought of his daughter Katie and her husband Ron having filed bankruptcy only months after buying a house they couldn’t afford. Marge was convinced that’s why they were divorcing, but Norman had seen Ron with that other woman. Having been guilty of the same thing now and then over the years, what right had he to judge Ron? He never said a word about seeing Ron to Marge or Katie. Maybe he should have. What was that Stan had said? Confusing love and lust? He remembered Pastor Mark saying love is a choice first, then feelings follow. Perhaps. Norman had never considered leaving Marge for anyone else; he just missed the excitement he felt in the beginning of their relationship. The lust and sex. He figured Ron had too. Maybe he should have said something. Maybe he should have said something to Ron.

The next commercial was a plug for a new movie coming out on Christmas day, a comedy about a group of senior citizens plotting to rob a bank. “What exactly does a bank robbery have to do with the birth of Christ?” wondered Norman aloud. He was astonished that he never thought about these things before. “Happy Holidays,” the announcer for the trailer said. Norman’s mind went back to the secret meeting. Stan had said, “Within a hundred years I will have that holiday changed to a different name entirely and His name will no longer be part of it.” Hundred years, my eye, thought Norman. We’re already removing His name from Christmas.

Finally, the commercials were over and the program was on. Norman settled back into the pillows a bit to try to relax. It was some kind of reality show. Norman smiled as he recognized it. He had seen it once before when Katie was still at home. It featured people with weird fetishes who had no problem at all talking about it on national television. He remembered one guy even thought he was in love with his refrigerator. “…culture of free love. Anything goes.” The words floated back to Norman. Disgusted, he turned off the TV. He saw things a lot more clearly now. He thought about his granddaughter, Maggie. What would her world be like in twenty years? Thirty years? Would there be any clear lines left between right and wrong? Purity and perversion? He could see the consequences of self-indulgence clearly. God, what a mess. What a freakin’ mess. His throat closed up and the tears fell unhampered.

Norman sat there for hours propped against his headboard, fresh tears intermittently staining his face. The sun had long disappeared behind the buildings across the street before he felt calm enough to do what he knew must be done. He had to take back his family. Himself. He had to for Maggie, little innocent Maggie. His heart ached for her, for Marge and Katie, for the world. Determinedly, he sat up straight and wiped the remaining tears from his face. Then he opened the drawer in the nightstand next to him, searching for the holy book within, the book that would show him the way.

John 10:10

1 Peter 5:8-9

1 John 3:8

2 Corinthians 4:4

2 Timothy 3:13-14

Galatians 6:7